When dusk falls upon the city, Bourbon street fills with people. The sound of drums rises above the din of tourists, and a few locals wind their way through the crowd past Grant street and into the alley.
The alley that leads them to Maud's Place.
The lines stretch down the alley, and onto Grant street. Couples, in retro suits and dresses, fedoras, large swirling skirts and shiny black shoes, pass by the bouncers and into the club.
Inside Maud's Place the city enters new boundaries. The dialect is foreign, the music never halts and there are bare moments of dropping off coats and drink orders before couples are swept onto the floor and into the music. From Benny Goodman, to newer sounds the night stretches on until dawn's fingers creep through the boarded shut windows.
The band is a conglomeration of talents, molded together by years and family. If anyone is enjoying the night more than the patrons it's these scamps. In between sets, they leave the stage to dance among the crowd, the old style of extensions and brakes drawing sounds of surprise from a crowd that missed the music the first time around.
Maud herself claims a stool at the end of the bar, smiling after the patrons and her laughter can be heard throughout the place as the antics of the band worm their way into her thoughts.
And it was unto this birthright I was born.
A thousand stories to tell, and yet, not one will stay here. My tale takes me to a different path. I'm not sure 'less traveled by' would describe it, but 'Caution, Danger Ahead' seems too trite. Perhaps 'Falling Rocks' would serve to some amusement, but I think it better just to say that no matter the length, all roads lead to Amber.
If you wanted to know a bit more, well try a tale from her past.
Or, you could go back to the Primal Mush page.
You could also look at some logs.